


i love everybody because i love you

by Thegaygumballmachine



Category: Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: F/F, Missing Scene, does this count as a drabble? maybe, this was written to a prompt of one word and if u can guess it you get cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegaygumballmachine/pseuds/Thegaygumballmachine
Summary: “They’re saying you’ve bewitched me,” says Glinda, “and perhaps you have.”
Relationships: Elphaba Thropp/Galinda Upland
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	i love everybody because i love you

**Author's Note:**

> consider this my way of coming into this fandom before i post anything too insane in it.
> 
> the concept of oz in general thinking elphaba has glinda in her thrall has been bugging me for?? years?? and i don’t have the brains for a multichap at the minute so i leave this here instead to hint at what i could be doing with that idea but probably won’t for awhile.

“They’re saying you’ve bewitched me,” says Glinda, “and perhaps you have.”

It’s quiet here. The sky bleeds purple and red and the stone echoes under her feet, like it’s ancient and she’s new. A castle she can’t hope to comprehend. 

Elphaba turns to the window and holds her broom with white knuckles. Glinda reads desperation in her, a fidgety kind of unrest. 

“That would certainly be a wicked thing to do,” she spits. Glinda thinks on her, on the state of things. On her father and how he ages, how she is next in line in the North and incapable of changing that fact. 

“In truth I- I think I might prefer it.”

Her voice shakes; Elphaba looks at her, features drawn and eyes black. They both see things they shouldn’t, and Glinda goes outside herself — tastes naïveté and fear and a sharp desire to kiss the corner of Elphaba’s mouth, to tell her past the thickness in her own throat how wrecked Oz has become in their names. 

(Rather, how she sees this now, and wishes it were different.)

Elphaba laughs, shortly and without mercy. 

“You’re puppet enough as you are,” she sneers. The space between them grows and modifies itself, becomes taut with anger. Glinda’s breath hitches in her chest and she _wonders_. 

(Oh, how she wonders.)

“I’m going to kill him,” says Elphaba. 

Glinda gets over herself — kisses her cheek, leaves a pale pink imprint behind.

“Do it soon, Elphie.”


End file.
